Hallowed
by Jashin-chan
Summary: /He could never REALLY forget the best eleven years of his life. Not he, the everlasting martyr.../ A background story, Hidan's POV.


Authoress' Note: Do not own Naruto!

This story was originally written for a contest on deviantart. Well, won the contest, FIRST PLACE! :D Figured I'd celebrate by posting this here!

The theme was Memories, and I immediately wanted to do something for Hidan, considering he never got any flashbacks for the show, only a short entry on his past in the data profile books. Well, here's my interpretation. Hope you all enjoy!

Hallowed

By Jashin-chan

When my mother died, I laughed. I laughed like a fucking loon. Bitch deserved everything she got. It was around the same when my father passed on as well. The only difference then was the realization that I was suddenly very much alone. I was never the type to enjoy solitude. It wasn't my 'thing'. I would have been bothered more by it had it not been for the fact that I was surrounded by war, and death was becoming so common at this point.

I never had a best friend. I had a friend. Had quite a few fucking friends. When you hate to be lonely, you follow whoever the fuck you can find out on the battlefields. And not one of them survived. Oh, but they all tried. Some of them tried to kill me, simply because I was too dangerous. Forget that I was on their side. I was ruthless, a killing machine, and damn scary for my age. The motherfuckers never saw it coming when that 'dead corpse' hacked them to pieces for stealing his goddamn rations. Damn bastards…

But as I lost more and more friends, it came to a moment of realization. And while this moment for most meant insanity, for me, I only knew one thing that kept me thinking – I didn't fucking care. I was ALIVE. That was all that mattered, the fact that I was fucking alive, and everyone else was dead. And for most of them, I was there when it happened. Right by their side, during their pain, their fear, and their suffering. And that, I decided, was the most beautiful thing a man could see, or feel. They didn't quite agree with me. Take me to the hospital; find me a medic, don'tletmefuckingdiehereGodHidanpleasehelp - !

And all I had to say was, shut the fuck up and take it like a man. You're lucky. Think about it – I'll never be able to feel this pain of dying. You lucky son of a bitch. I'm fucking jealous.

It was usually about then that I ended their misery. And I'll tell you now, that was the best stress relief I had ever experienced.

~*~

"Not the best way to celebrate your birthday, huh, Hidan?"

The man looked to his temporary partner as he pulled the Demon Wind Shuriken from his chest. Hidan, in response, gave one of his characteristic grins, as he hissed in pain.

"Are you kidding?" he groaned, as the blood flowed out. "Best fuckin' present I ever got, next to that smack my mother gave me when I was a kid."

"You ARE a freaking kid, you crazy bastard." The other man chuckled, pulling out a cigarette. "Fifteen years does not an adult make – yet."

"Hey, fuck you." Hidan grunted. He looked to the dead bodies laid out around him, and grinned. "Hey, Hikaru. Look at that. Now that's what I call a fucking MASSACRE." He laughed, gleeful, like a child at Christmas. The other, Hikaru, looked over the same scene with troubled eyes, and shook his head. His black, cropped hair fluttered in the breeze, and the falling darkness left only a small glow of light on his tanned skin.

"Man, Hidan, I wish you'd stop pointing that kind of crap out like that. Like this is some VACATION for you. Tell me, Hidan, honestly, how many out there do you think are ours?"

"Considering that just you and me are left? At least ten. Fuck, man, lucky bastards." Hidan's pink eyes seemed to shine crimson in the sunset, and his brow furrowed in irritation. Hikaru shook his head, lighting his cigarette with a match. The look in his eyes, his dark brown eyes as he watched Hidan, was one of concern. He gave Hidan a pat on the back, hiding the emotion in an appearance of camaraderie.

"How the heck did you get so messed up?" he sighed. "That's not something a kid should be saying. It's morbid."

"I dunno." The response is bright and light-hearted, but bored. Hidan began walking around, searching the dead bodies for any 'goodies'. Hikaru nudged him disapprovingly, and Hidan looked back up, grinning. "Well, which story do you wanna hear? That my mother was abusive? My father was a coward who died trying to run? That my first friend tried to kill me because he hated my guts, that his last words were him calling me a sick freak of nature? That I still don't know if he was talking about my immortality or the fact that I'm a fuckin' pale little shit? Because all of those stories are the truth, and not one of them is the fuckin' reason I act like I do. I act the way I do because that's who I fuckin' AM."

Bending over, Hidan rolled over one of the bodies, looking at the headband: Yugakure. It was one of theirs, another member of their squad. With a grin, he rummaged through the dead shinobi's pack, pulling out some food and biting into it. He looked up at Hikaru, the darker man, the man who had taken him in recently, another caught in war, but with a completely different view. And again, he grinned. He laughed at how worried the man was. Because in the end, Hidan knew, he wouldn't be the one Hikaru needed to worry about.

~*~

If I remember correctly, Hikaru died about ten minutes after that. That was a fucking shocker. Turned out one of those corpses wasn't as dead as we thought. Fucking smart guy, just laid there until our backs were turned. I'll never forget it. The way Hikaru looked at me, as he died; like he felt fucking BAD. Guilty for leaving me behind, I think, for being unable to stay with me.

Got so fucking pissed, I stabbed him again. Then I laughed. I always do, when someone dies. Laughed at how shocked he looked. Like he thought I was ATTACHED to him or something, only for me to shove a kunai through his heart. Called him a goddamn moron, and he died with a look of permanent shock on his face.

Don't get me wrong, I didn't hate him. He was a nice guy. I was just pissed off because of that. Nice guys drive me nuts, because they don't know anything. They think they're BETTER than other people, their God's gift to mankind.

But I know better now. Jashin gives us no gifts in life other than our pain and suffering. For that, we must be grateful. I sure as hell am. If I didn't have that, I'd have fucking nothing.

~*~

The war was over – no more need to fight, no more need for strife. The words were spreading around Yugakure like wildfire, infecting everyone with a sense of joy. There were cheers and celebration on the blood-stained battlefields. And as soon as the man uttered those words to Hidan, Hidan's eyes went dead, his face wiped of all emotion.  
No more? Was this a fucking JOKE? That was IT?

"Hey, kid. Did you hear me? It's over! Everyone can go home now!" The man's words barely reached Hidan over the thoughts whirling through his mind, making him numb. The only thing Hidan could barely process was his face. Obviously this man was excited. It took all the restraint Hidan had to stop himself from plunging the kunai in his hand into him. Just like that? They thought they could end years of turmoil, just like that?

That day, for the first time, Hidan went home. Not to some base, not to some ditch to rest. To his actual HOME, lugging behind some award they had thanked him with for his help, his dedication to his Village. Fuck that, he thought bitterly, throwing the piece of scrap metal into the garbage.

He was sixteen now, going onto seventeen. And as he walked in, he could smell the death in his home, a scent that had completely overtaken that of his mother. Good riddance to the bitch. She was rotting somewhere in a hole, where the enemy had dragged her out, made Hidan watch as they slaughtered her. Stared when he laughed, screamed when they found out this strange, pale abomination could not die. Then they left him there, bleeding. He was six at the time, he thought. Couldn't really remember…

The bastards had pillaged the house, Hidan realized, with a scowl. Any other food he found had been decayed over the years. Someone else had been killed in here too. The only reason Hidan knew this for sure was because as he walked into his old room, he could see bloodstains on the bed. Ignoring them, he reclined on the bed that was half of his size, staring up at the ceiling.

No more fucking War, he told himself, trying to get excited over the idea. No good. He still felt incredibly bitter, and pissed. No more killing, no more pain, no more suffering.  
In other words, fucking nothing for someone like him.

As Hidan sat and pondered, strangely enough, one of the first things that popped into his mind was Hikaru. That dark-haired man from almost two years ago now. And it was not with a sense of kindness that he came. Hidan knew that the man would have been happy right now, had he still been alive. Fucking goody two-shoes. It was people like HIM that did shit like this. Ending a fucking war; ending the best eleven years of Hidan's life. Pulling everything out from under him, and leaving him with this feeling, of loneliness, emptiness, and a complete lack of purpose.

No, no, how could they? Didn't they know the things this would do to him? Didn't they know – his mind could not take anymore of this.

Standing up again, Hidan picked up the tiny bed frame, slamming it into the wall. He snarled in frustration, an animalistic noise, coming from deep inside of him. A side awakened by the strife he had lived in, and unaffected by this enveloping calm. Panting, he stood by the shattered remnants of his life, feeling his feet slowly slip out from under him.

No, no, no, NO… the words echoed in his head, the first mantra of his insanity. He slammed a fist into the wall, the hard wood splintering slightly, but pulling off the skin of his knuckles. He sunk down slowly, letting the blood flow. That was the only way he could keep himself… keep the blood flow constant, let it water the hunger of the Earth and its continuous circle of violence. Hidan shivered, with a feeling of ecstasy, and let out a sigh of relief.

Let the pain take hold…

~*~

"You've got to get over that damn War, Hidan… it's tearing you apart. Can you even see what it's doing to you?"

At this point, Hidan didn't even know who the hell was talking to him. He had never seen this man's face before, unless it had been a bypass on the battlefields. This man didn't know him, obviously. He seemed to think Hidan was suffering.

"This isn't the goddamned War doing this… it's the goddamned PEACE… makes me go fucking insane… what the fuck do they want me to DO?" Hidan's voice was drawling, slow. He was bleeding profusely by a cut from a kunai. The man, whoever the hell he was, was trying to bandage it up. With a burst of force, Hidan shoved him away. "God, will you fuckin' leave it ALONE!" he snarled. "It'll heal on its own in a few moments! Stop fuckin' fussing like a fuckin' woman!"

"The Village is worried about you. I was sent to help you. You're a War Hero, Hidan, but that doesn't mean that was your entire life. Let it go, will you?"

Let it go… now he knew, this man really DIDN'T know him. Hidan briefly considered plunging the kunai on his dresser into the man's chest, making him bleed, and reminding him exactly why Hidan could not 'let go' of the War; because the War was a fucking joyride for him. But Hidan had to remind himself, the Village did not necessarily promote murdering fellow shinobi. This was why Hidan instead inflicted it upon himself. And apparently, the Village seemed to think it meant he needed 'help'. Ah, how little his Village understood of him.

"You can get the fuck out now…"

It was not a request; it was a straight-up command. Nothing about it could have been seen as misleading. Hidan's voice was strong, rough, and the look in his eyes was almost enough to send the man running. But still, hesitation. Stupid. The man finally left, only when Hidan threw a kunai at him, missing him by inches. And as he bolted, Hidan stared back down at his own wound, at the blood slowly flowing from him, the wound healing. Like this stagnant inactivity had vanquished the War, even his wounds were steadily curing, disappearing. There had to be a way to stop this, this constant sedation… to keep it all moving, to keep everything in action. And Hidan knew of only one method.

Raising the kunai high, Hidan plunged it into his arm again. The only cure – beat it 'til it bled, and give no chance to heal. Soothe the sickness of peace with the feelings of suffering, of feeling ALIVE.

At this point, Hidan didn't know how much longer he could last…

~*~

There was no memory in his mind of how it had started. A crying shame really. Because he would have loved to keep this memory of his Village, wallowing once again in the blood of its own veins, its own people. But all he could remember was blacking out, and waking up to this.

They should have known really. They should have known Hidan was not of stable mind. They should have known the damage he was capable of. Ah, well. Their mistake. Not much time for regret as he ripped them apart, finally teaching them what it was they had been missing.

He was fully aware that they surrounded him now, in a cautious circle, weapons held out. He stared down every single one of them, eyes wide, mouth gaped open, panting in excitement. And he LAUGHED. He LAUGHED, and there was definitely no stopping him now. What did they honestly think they could do to him? This was his moment, his gift to the Village for the best years of his life that they'd given and taken away, like some sick, cruel joke. But now, they had this suffering. Lucky sons of bitches, they didn't deserve something this good. Now, Hidan dared them to attack. If he got something out of this, it would all be worth it.

Bring it on, he thought, that malevolent, sick smile on his face that he had inherited from his mother, the sick sadist of a bitch. The same smile she had when she saw the little freak suffer. The same grin he had when she died. 'Haha, bitch, your turn now'. Their turn now…

And it was Hikaru all over again; that look of shock, of a need to understand. He didn't get why. Wasn't it obvious enough to them?

He had never had any attachments to them. Not a single one had ever really known him, because there was no such thing as bonds between friends on the battlefield.

~*~

"So, what now?

Even he wasn't sure if he was talking to himself, or the rotting corpses around him, the ones that had followed when he fled. His headband still hung round his neck, stained in blood. He pulled it off slowly, and analyzed it. And with a casual blow, he struck over the symbol on it. Even if they had wanted him back, he did not want to go. No, he was content to stay right there, surrounded by death.

But what now? That was still the question. He was eighteen, with ages to live, and no responsibilities to anyone other than himself. He knew he would have to kill again later, to keep the meaning to his life.

For now, he was fine. Alright, he would stay there and rest. He did, after all, have years, he reminded himself. No hurry, no rush. He would find his assurance soon enough. There had to be something out there.

In the pools of crimson, he laid on his back, staring up into the peaceful sky. Ah, fuck Couldn't it be storming? It would have fit the mood so much better. But of course, that sort of thing only happened in the movies. For Hidan, they gave him clouds in a blue sky, drifting calmly by.

For a minute, as he watched them, he had the strangest feeling he was being watched. But this he attributed to his own insanity.

And with the look of one who has finally found certainty in himself, and his life – he smiled. Gentle, but maddening. And still, he didn't give a damn.

~*~

You know, Jashinism centers around a few general beliefs, the most relevant one being focused on the idea of death. Death, according to Lord Jashin, was the only way to really cleanse a person's soul; murder, forcefully taking their life. Because in those final moments of life, when they've been pushed to that struggle, they inevitably repent. The idea is to share in that person's pain and die with them, cleansing your own soul in the process. Jashinism, in other words, is made of martyrs. People die for this religion, just to feel that cleansing pain.

So when they tried to fucking sacrifice me, I died for the first time, breathing rushing back a second later as I came back. And fuck, it felt damn good. So good that I forced them to teach me the trick, then slaughtered them, one by one. And do you wanna know the best part? They all LET me do it. All praising Lord Jashin to the very end, looking at me like some Hell-sent Angel of Death. And when it was all done, I looked at my accomplishment. I looked at what I'd found; these people whom I had cleansed, I had saved. And I had died with them, felt that moment where everything went black, then faded back in, becoming REBORN.

Hikaru would have been fucking horrified. I felt goddamned accomplished.

For this was my purpose, my slap in that man's face for ever thinking he could save me. He had been going about it all the wrong way. This guy, Jashin, my mind thought then – he fucking knew what was right. This, I decided, was my purpose, my drive. It still is, and always has been…

When my mother died, I cried. I'll admit it. I cried because I still loved her for making me exist, for teaching me for the first time that pain was the only truth to life. And I cried because I couldn't return the damn favor. Because I couldn't kill the bitch myself. I'd had the knife ready and everything that night. But they took her instead. And as damn funny as it was to watch, I hated them. They didn't REALLY know what pain was, not like me.  
I cried, even when I was laughing. And I swear, the last thing I saw the bitch do was smile back, like it was a joke we shared. And maybe it was. Maybe it was…

~*~

"You forgot the part where we dragged your blood-coated, bitching ass back to our base and had you join."

Hidan shot a glare at Kakuzu as the man cut off the last part of his tale. "Yeah, I fucking remember that." He spat. "Right after I killed that whole group at the altar. I thought someone was fuckin' watching me…"

Both continued to walk down the road, back to the base. The story, to Kakuzu, had no other use than something to kill time as they whiled away on the trip. But as they continued, a smirk was plastered on Hidan's face. A look of content. He had almost forgotten his days in the Village, pushing them to the side in favor of this new life, this new purpose. But of course, he could never REALLY forget the best eleven years of his life. Not he, the everlasting martyr…

~End~


End file.
